


The Rip in their Cover

by oh2hell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 01:33:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11117103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh2hell/pseuds/oh2hell
Summary: When Mary comes back she finds out about the boys and the true nature of their relationship...





	The Rip in their Cover

"Well, I figured it would be better not to have pullable hair." Mary shrugged and crunched her bacon.

"I've been trying to tell Sam that for years..." Dean smiled softly and watched Sam from across the table, temporarily forgetting about their mother at the end of the table.

"Shut up, Dean; you love the 'pullable' hair and you know it."

The words slipped out of his mouth without thought and without hesitation. Both he and Dean had been so used to having the bunker to themselves, with the occasional drop in of Cas, who was already aware of the feelings the brothers had for each other, and hadn't had to filter their words since Bobby passed (the time when it was for good). 

Both men froze, Sam's eyes widened and fixed on the table like a kid caught doing something bad. Dean did his half smirk and laugh, glanced at their mother, and then back down at the table, shifting in his chair. Mary didn't change, she wrote it off as the boys just playing around and being brothers; Sam just giving Dean shit for him secretly actually liking his hair even though it would be uncool to admit it.

It wasn't until she was going through John's journal for the umpteenth time that she noticed a small rip in the fabric on the back cover. It was by some miracle that the boys never looked through it, they just passed it over as another part of the notebook that had been worn down by use. Mary knew different, though. She knew that one of John's specialties was hiding things stupidly well. That was one thing that she missed the most about him now, even if that talent got her so, so frustrated when they were both still alive. He would hide things like pens and pencils whenever she was trying to do work, or he'd stow away the car keys when all he wanted was a day with her. Seeing this small rip was jarring to Mary, and she knew immediately to investigate it. 

Wiggling her pointer finger into the small rip, Mary was able to widen it a touch, without ripping anything beyond repair. In the pocket was a picture and a folded piece of paper. The photo was a worn, old black and white of Sam and Dean, but it took Mary a while to notice it was them. To her, it looked like two teenagers in love, the one with short hair tenderly kissing the one with long hair's cheek. When she noticed it was her boys, Mary smiled and set the picture to the side - completely oblivious to the connotations of it. 

Unfolding the piece of paper Mary let out a shaky breath. Even though she had been reading John's handwriting in his journal, seeing it was still rough. It reminded her of the little notes he would leave her. Sometimes they'd be written on the mirror with dry erase markers, sometimes they'd be scrawled on paper and shoved into her purse, or a cup in the cabinet, or anywhere a small piece of paper could fit. After the first sentence, Mary simply forgot to breathe at all.

"Yesterday, Sam kissed Dean on the mouth more passionately than he'd kissed any girl that I've seen. Dean kissed back twice as hard. The boys thought I was still gone on my trip."

A couple lines were skipped.

"Dean has taken over most of Sam's training because I can't stand to see them together like that. The way Dean stares at his little brother when he's shirtless..."

A large section of the paper was smudged by something, probably alcohol and a little bit of blood, but Mary could see that everything was much the same. The very last sentence at the very end of the page ran on and on, saying "I can't help it, but I hate Dean for it. I find myself punishing him more and more and I drink more and more and I hate myself more and more and I know he looks up to me because I can see the admiration on his face but I know that he" the paper smudged more, but the last few words she could see broke Mary's heart more than the whole paper had: "No wonder Sam hates me..." 

Mary jumped up, pushing her chair away from the table, knocking it on it's side. No wonder... No wonder the boys acted like they did that morning... No wonder they worked so well together... No wonder Dean looked like that and Sam... No... 

Mary clawed her way to the kitchen, pulling herself by the walls and doorways. She needed something. She needed to get drunk. Now. Pulling herself around the corner and into the kitchen, Mary saw her two boys sitting at the table, discussing a big, leatherbound book. They both looked up at her when she came in, but before anyone could say anything she was running down the hallway, searching for a room they wouldn't find her in. A room where she could drink until she forgot and then drink again.


End file.
